


It's all about shwarma

by DorianWilde



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bromance, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, POV Melissa McCall, Romance, Scallison, Superwolf, chris is star struck, stisaac - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:48:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DorianWilde/pseuds/DorianWilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You see, Isaac and I were on our way to get Shawarma. Then voici, deux hunters,” Stiles said, gesturing towards the bound brothers. “Famous hunters, apparently. Chris is a little star struck.”</p><p>Chris glared at him, though he was obviously blushing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's all about shwarma

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bengsi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bengsi/gifts).



> Hey so did you guys know you get presents in Spain on the 6th of January? Which means this isn't a belated Christmas-fic, it's a Dia de los reyes-fic, and it's done on time! Isn't that great? :D
> 
> Written for Bengsi.

~~_Merry Christmas_ ~~

_Merry dia de los reyes bengsi/almostawinchester_

 

 **Title** : It's all about shwarma

 **Fandom** : Superwolf

 **Pairings** : Scallison, Stisaac 

 **Characters** : Derek, Stiles, Scott, Melissa, Isaac, Dean, Sam

 **Other** **tags** : Melissa POV, humor, bromance, romance

 **Beta** : Flipmeforward 

 

It was just after seven o’clock when there was a knock on Melissa's front door. Scott and Isaac, having arrived home yesterday from the community college they were attending, had left an hour ago for a quick meeting with Derek and Stiles. A bit uneasy, Melissa glanced out the window, checking for glowing eyes or weapons, but only seeing two suit clad men. Glad she hadn't changed into her pajamas, she padded down the stairs.

 

“Hello?” she said and raised her eyebrow at the two men standing outside the door. They were both wearing suits and looked very proper, though the one on the left had hair that made her fingers itch to cut it like she had done with Scott's in his junior year of high school.

 

“Hello, I'm agent Mark Hoppus, this is my colleague agent Scott Raynor,” the one to the right, sporting very dark and thick lashes, said. He flashed a somewhat familiar badge. “We're FBI.”

 

“Fascinating,” Melissa answered dryly, leaning against the door jamb, crossing her arms over her chest. “Who are you really?”

 

“Ma'am?” horrible-hair asked, doing a bad job of looking questioning.

 

“My ex-husband is a fed, that's a fake badge. Now, who are you really?” Melissa asked, tapping her foot impatiently. She glanced over to double-check that the baseball bat was still leaning against the wall by the door.

 

“What are the odds?” thick-lashes muttered just as Stiles' jeep screeched to a halt.

 

“Mum! They're hunters,” Scott called, throwing himself out of the car with unnecessary dramatics.

 

“Caw caw, motherfuckers!” Stiles said, aiming a gun in a two handed grip against the men. “It's the _Ravenclaw_ battle cry,” he added to no-one in particular. College had not made Stiles any less weird, bless him.

 

“Isn't Allison keeping her hunters in line?” Melissa sighed as thick-lashes and disaster-hair drew their own guns, aiming them at the boys.

 

“They're not Argents,” Stiles filled her in. “They're rogue hillbillies with uncle-daddies.”

 

“Who the fuck are you calling—” thick-lashes began.

 

The five years that had passed since Scott had become a werewolf had hardened Melissa. Instead of getting scared in these situations, she just felt annoyed and kind of tired. In one fluid movement she ducked back in, took the bat and smacked both men across their backs.

 

“—rogue—ooof!” Both of them toppled over, gasping for air, as the _Camaro_ smoothly parked, Isaac and Derek quickly jogging up the driveway.

 

Scott and Derek quickly handcuffed the strange hunters – handcuffs courtesy of Stiles – dragging them into the house. Isaac didn't seem to know who to check on first, looking between Stiles and Melissa, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket.

 

“I'm fine,” Melissa assured him, rolling her eyes. Isaac sent her one of his dazzling puppy-smiles, quickly checking a weakly protesting Stiles over.

 

They'd used the rope Melissa kept for these situations to tie the men to a kitchen chair each. Yes, Melissa kept rope around for these types of situations. Situations which occurred with alarming frequency.

 

She pulled Scott with her into the living room. “Should I call Chris?” she asked.

 

“I've called Allison, she's back home,” Scott answered, scratching his neck tiredly. He had grown up a lot since he became alpha, managing his little pack and defending Beacon Hills against the myriads of threats the small town seemed to attract. Being allies with the Argents, and Scott being engaged to their leader, made their lives a whole lot easier.

 

“Good.” She smiled, squeezing his arm gently. “So what do we do with thick—eh, the hunters?”

 

“Hand them over to Chris or Allison, I guess.” Scott made a face. “Hopefully they'll talk some sense into them. You know, the usual.”

 

“Scott?” Chris opened the door without knocking, Allison in tow. Melissa didn't expect them to knock, Allison even had her own key. And unlike Stiles' key, Allison's had been given as a gift from mother-in-law to daughter-in-law, not been illegally made.

 

“Hi, Chris, they're in the kitchen with Derek,” Melissa said, ushering them along. The sooner they got this over with, the better. Chris and Allison had had to give their we're-allies-leave-the Beacon-Hills-Pack-alone speech far too many times. Throwing a shoe lovingly at Stiles and Isaac who were cuddling on the stairs, the five of them walked towards the kitchen.

 

Christ stopped dead in the doorway. “Oh my god, you've captured the Winchesters.” He hid his face in his hand for a second. “Of course you have,” he breathed.

 

“The whatchesters?” Stiles asked.

 

“They're…legends. They and their father, John Winchester, may he rest in peace. How did you—?” he asked, brows furrowed.

 

“Melissa hit them in the back with a bat,” Stiles grinned, Isaac snorting. “It was _awe_ -some.”

 

“Right.” Chris nodded, staring at the two men who was skeptically looking back at them. “Eh, don't feel bad,” Chris told them. “Melissa once got an alpha werewolf that way.”

 

“And a ghoul,” Isaac quickly cut in. He and Scott looked ridiculously proud about that, probably only moments away from fist bumping. Melissa fought the urge to smile fondly at the two doofuses.

 

“Right,” thick-lashes drawled.

 

“These things happen here often then?” in-dire-need-of-a-haircut asked curiously.

 

“You…could say that, yes,” Scott nodded, lips twitching upwards.

 

“More often than not,” Stiles supplied. “Look, is this going to take long? Because some of us have plans, you know.”

 

“What are you doing?” Scott asked.

 

“We're gonna re-watch _Thor 2_ and order Shawarma,” Isaac told him.

 

“Oh man,” Scott said. “Can I come?”

 

“Dude, we're gonna be here,” Stiles rolled his eyes.

 

“I promised Melissa I'd do the cooking tonight, but Stiles felt like Shawarma...” Isaac said, shrugging.

 

“And I felt like Tom Hiddleston,” Melissa finished. “Now, focus on the present.”

 

“I just love that word, shhh-wwwaaarm-aaa.” Stiles seemed to taste the letters. Melissa pinched him to shut him up.

 

They all looked expectantly at Chris, who were still staring at the Winchesters, hands nervously playing with the hem of his jacket.

 

“This is the Beacon Hills pack,” Allison began, glancing questioningly at her father, “they're not a threat unless threatened. They are allied with us,” she gestured towards herself and her father. “As head of the Argents, I assure you they do not harm humans…who do not attack them,” she added as an after thought, glancing at Melissa, eyes sparkling. Melissa shrugged. She'd perfected that swing over the years. To be honest, she was actually kind of proud of it.

 

“I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam,” thick-lashes said, gesturing with his head towards needs-haircut-ASAP. “We were investigating a series of murders—”

 

“They have been dealt with,” Allison said shortly. “You should have contacted the local hunters first,” she snapped, eyes narrowed.

 

“Didn't know there were any,” Dean said, trying to shrug.

 

“I told you we should have done more research,” Sam muttered.

 

“Shut up, Sam.”

 

“I'm just saying—”

 

“Shut. Up.”

 

They all turned around when the front door opened, revealing Sheriff Stilinski in full uniform. “What's going on?” he asked, looking around the crowded kitchen.

 

“Well—” Sam began.

 

“Hello, daddy-o. You see, Isaac and I were on our way to get Shawarma. Then v _oici, deux_ hunters,” Stiles said, gesturing towards the bound brothers. “Famous hunters, apparently. Chris is a little star struck.”

 

Chris glared at him, though he was obviously blushing.

 

“Right.” John rubbed his eyes tiredly. “And this is why the neighbors called about a gunfight?”

 

“That… seem very likely, yes,” Stiles confirmed.

 

“Right.” John let out a long breath. “I'll just say my son is immature and were playing warfare with his friends.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Thanks, John,” Melissa cut Stiles off.

 

“Did you say you were having shwarma?” John asked, phone halfway to his ear.

 

“Oh no—” Stiles immediately protested.

 

“I'll order extra,” Melissa assured him.

 

“I get off at eight,” the Sheriff say by way of goodbye.

 

“Do you promise not to harm my pack?” Scott asked the brothers.

 

“I thought glaring dude was the alpha,” Dean drawled, both eyebrows raised. Derek, not surprisingly, glared in response.

 

“Answer the question,” Scott prompted.

 

“We'll honor the pact the Argents have made, and trust their judgement,” Sam begun. “But if you start killing—”

 

“We won't,” Scott said shortly.

 

“Can we trust them?” Allison asked.

 

“They follow the code,” Chris answered shortly, then set about untying Sam while Derek ungently untied Dean.

 

“Great! Glad that's over.” Stiles threw himself down in a chair. “I'm freaking starving.”

 

“Can...can I have some shwarma?” Sam asked hesitantly, rubbing his wrists.

 

“Sammy, for god's sake,” Dean snapped.

 

“You know what?” Melissa said. “Everybody just grab a fucking plate.”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a line with some love if you liked this?


End file.
